


When the Past Comes Calling

by Era_Penn



Series: The Idiot Genius and His Somewhat Blind Hawk [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Beating, Canon-Typical Violence, Capture, Cuddling, Flashbacks, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Kisses, Loneliness, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Protective Avengers, Recovery, Rescue, Scarring, Shovel Talk, Team as Family, Tony Feels, Tony Whump, crazy ex, mild autophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 18,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Era_Penn/pseuds/Era_Penn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Clint are settling into their relationship, uncertain of where it will take them. However, in the shadows, trouble is brewing. Clint's crazy exes may not be an issue anymore, but Tony's got one that just might be. And of course the billionaire is afraid to get used to having people he cares about and who care about him around, because when they leave it's going to break him.</p><p>TW: Past domestic abuse.<br/>Rating may go up to mature depending on where my brain goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if Rhodey is ooc. I have never been able to him justice, so I rarely write him. Just pretend he's epic and awesome and stuff despite my failings as a writer.

Rhodey walked in just as Tony was approaching a full-blown panic attack, diffusing most of the illogical reaction that he couldn't help from having at the realization he was getting attached. Attachment rarely ended will for him (see also: Stane, Stone, Stark, Maria, et al.).

But every once in a while it went okay (see also: Pepper, Jarvis, Rhodey, the bots). And this time he’d rather hope it went well than expect that it wouldn't.

“Honeybear!”

“I will not converse with you until you know what converse means.”

Tony tilted his head and returned to the coffee machine. “Is it something dirty?” he asked, smirking.

“Nice try.” He turned to the others in the room. “Colonel James Rhodes. Jim or Rhodey.”

“Steve,” Steve said. He would not freak out over being able to call Captain America Steve. He was a professional.

“Romanov.” Natasha allowed. That might be the single most terrifying thing anyone had ever said to him, and it was her name. Tony wasn't kidding about that, Rhodey noted.

“Bruce.” The Hulk was this guy? He looked like a Muppet. Maybe the Hulk was really Kermit, on some serious steroids.

Clint shifted a little under Rhodey’s gaze, almost guiltily. “Clint Barton.” he stated evenly enough to appease for the moment.

“And I am Thor, Odinson. Well met, Colonel!” Thor boomed, breaking the tension in the room. “I am sure brother Stark would welcome you himself, but he has not yet taken his morning elixir.”

“Coffee, Thor.” Clint said. “Coffee.”

“May as well be an elixir,” Rhodey replied. “What with the ridiculous reliance Tony has on the stuff.”

Tony mumbled something that sounded distinctly unflattering under his breath and took in the scent of the heating beans.

* * *

Rhodey waited. He and Tony were in the shop, and it had been quiet for quite some time now. Tony had something he wanted to talk about, but wasn't sure how to bring up. So he waited and thought and wondered what was going through his best friend’s head.

“I think I might be dating Clint.” was _not_ what Rhodey had expected to come out of that mouth.

“...What?”

“Well, we've only been on the one date but - did Pepper tell you about the presents? He gave me a bunch of presents.”

“Is that where RC came from?” Rhodey asked, as the tiny car in question zoomed between his feet.

“Yes.”

“And the fish.”

“Casper.”

“Right. Of course.” Rhodey closed his eyes and inhaled. “Do you want to be dating Clint?”

“Yeah. I… Yeah.”

Oh, he was far gone over the archer. “Why didn't Pep tell me?” Rhodey asked. The two of them actively schemed together to keep Tony alive, happy, and sane. They weren't particularly effective, but Tony appreciated the effort anyway.

“I asked her not to. I wanted to talk to you first.”

Rhodey nodded. Fair enough, he thought. “So. What do you want to talk about?”

“Well… Should I tell him about…” Tony didn't finish. Rhodey didn't need him to, and leaned back from the project they were working on, thinking. Tony let him, knowing Rhodey didn't want to give him bad advice.

“I think you should, at least a little.” He said eventually. “The two of you are going to run into the guy eventually, especially with his company taking off like it has. Seriously, he takes ‘crazy ex’ to a whole new level.”

“Yeah.” Tony sighed. 

“So.” Rhodey said, deciding to change the subject (he could always tell when Tony had hit his limit of serious, dark conversation). “What sorts of presents did he woo you with, damsel?”

Tony’s shriek of outrage made him laugh. He’d corner the archer later for the shovel talk. He was fairly sure Pepper had already done so, but. Well. Tony needed as many people in his corner as he could get.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint fidgeted in his chair, wanting to slink around in the vents above Tony’s shop but not wanting to intrude on friend bonding time. Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “Have you told Coulson yet?”

No. No, he hadn't.

“Better hop to, lover boy.” Steve said, straight-faced. Clint grumbled as everyone laughed at him, slipping out of the kitchen. Coulson was rarely around for breakfast. He tended to get up earlier than anyone else and start his paperwork with a coffee and bagels.

Sure enough, he found the Agent in his office, working his way through the paperwork for their last mission. 

“Sir?” he said, hesitantly, shocked when Coulson instantly capped his pen and gave him his undivided attention. Perhaps reading confusion in his eyes, Coulson took pity on him.

“I have learned that with you, hesitance is a feature to be encouraged.” He paused. “Or results in enormous amounts of paperwork.”

Clint fidgeted awkwardly. “Uuuh.”

“Report.” Coulson said sharply.

“I’m dating Stark, sir!” he said immediately, wincing even as it came out. Was that - yep, there was the vein throbbing in Coulson's temple.

“Finally.” bland lips curled into a smirk. “Good thing I already filled out the paperwork, hmm?”

Wait. What.

“Uh… sir?”

“I saw it coming. You weren't very subtle. I’m fairly sure everyone except Stark knew.” Coulson said. “You need to have the crazy ex talk.”

“My crazy exes aren't really an issue anymore, sir.”

“But his might be.” There was something dark in Coulson's voice. Clint didn't ask. “Please don’t break the billionaire, I don’t want to have to fight Pepper Potts.”

Implying that he would, in fact, fight Pepper Potts for him. “Yes, sir.”


	3. The Best Friend

Rhodey was surprisingly laid-back. Clint wasn't sure why it was surprising, considering that Rhodey’s best friend was Tony, but it was. However, he was feeling slightly cornered by the man at the moment.

“So you’re dating Tony.” Rhodey said, bluntly. Clint appreciated his straightforward attitude. 

“Yep.” he agreed, unable to keep a grin off of his face. Rhodey nodded slowly.

“If you break him,” Rhodey said, “I’ll help Pepper.”

“You’ll have to fight for a place in line,” Clint replied. “Bruce got to me first.”

Rhodey looked a little surprised by that, and smirked. “I’m sure the Hulk would be willing to let me have a couple punches. He seems like a reasonable fellow.”

Clint beamed. “He really is!” he agreed, before remembering they were discussing his fate.

Rhodey seemed to hesitate, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “If Tony reacts oddly in some situations, don’t let it bother you.” he said. 

Thinking of the way Tony had woken up the other day, Clint sighed. He was getting really, really tired of all the carefully placed hints. “Why is everyone so worried about this?” he demanded. “I’m not going to hurt him, at least not intentionally.”

Rhodey shook his head. “That’s Tony’s story to tell. And he will, probably fairly soon.”

Clint sighed, and grumbled. “Fine.” he sipped his beer.

“That being said.” Rhodey suddenly spoke up. “Brilliant call with the remote control car.” Standing, the man left the room. Clint huffed and made his way down to the workshop.

* * *

“Your friends are _terrifying_.” Clint said.

Tony snorted. “Overprotective mother hens is what they are.” He replied. There was a long pause. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Tony blinked a little. Huh. Usually, at about this point, people asked _why_ his friends were so protective, and he employed clever evasive tactics.

“Sure.” he replied, after considering the relative importance of what he was working on (a new app for the Stark Pads). “Go pick one while I shower and change.”

“Want me to call for takeout?”

“Is it dinnertime already?” Tony asked absently, a little surprised. “Sure. Chinese okay?”

“Mexican?”

“Burgers?”

“Burgers it is.” Clint grinned. “And fries, and every flavor of ice cream currently in your fridge.”

Tony smirked. “Maybe I should skip the shower.”

“No. Shower. I shudder to think of the poor couch, should you sit on it in your current state.” Clint said, grinning. “We might have to replace it… again…”

Tony groaned. “Seriously, what does Thor have against furniture?”

* * *

“So, where is everyone?” Tony asked. Not that he was complaining, he didn't mind that it was just he and Clint, but normally the Avengers flocked to the living room when anyone started a movie, especially if there was food involved.

“Dr. Banner is in his lab, and the others have gone out.” Jarvis replied.

Tony and Clint both blinked. “Where’d they go?” Clint asked, a thread of worry running through his voice.

“I believe they intended to outfit Steve and Thor properly before, as Agent Romanov put it, ‘hitting the town’.”

Tony and Clint looked at each other and decided simultaneously, “Coulson's problem,” before turning back to their fries.


	4. Chapter 4

“YOU- YOU-” Tony leapt to his feet, thumbs mashing buttons and body leaning in the direction of his kart on the screen. “YOU CHEATER!”

“Me?! YOU WON EIGHT TIMES IN A ROW!” Clint said, and though he remained sitting, his whole frame thrummed with tension. “HEY!”

“HA, take that!” Tony grinned, shooting past the zapped Yoshi. “You’re getting beaten by a MUSHROOM!”

“Oh, it is ON.”

Natasha, Steve, and Thor stood bemusedly in the doorway, staring at the Mario Kart showdown taking place in their living room. At four in the morning. With absolute seriousness. On an old Nintendo 64. Which, admittedly, was probably the best version of Mario Kart ever.

“Have you two slept at all?”

The shriek of terror and immediate attempt at nonchalance from both was definitely worth giving away her presence. It was also a fairly adequate ‘no’.

“Jarvis!” Tony hissed. “You traitor.”

“I deemed it best for the state of the technology in the room if someone put a stop to this, or at least some form of moderation,” the AI replied.

Clint grinned. “Oh, come on, Jarvis!” he said. “We weren't doing any damage.”

“Yet.” Jarvis responded ominously.

Natasha would forever blame the fact that she was tipsy for the way she sat and grabbed a control. “Let’s see if you two проигравшие have got what it takes.”

“Oh, sister,” Tony replied, picking Toad again. “You ain't played a video game until you've played it with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, an entire chapter of fluff.
> 
> So... Brace yourselves, I guess? 
> 
> MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
> 
> :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blatant abuse of Marvel characters and canon. I know very little of Stone's actual story, so I'm basically making crap up. Sorry to any hardcore fans out there - if you can point me to a good starting point in the comics, I will gladly attempt to catch up. Most of my experience lies in the MCU.
> 
> TW: past abuse.

Tony covered a small yawn behind a hand, listening to the young woman in front of him chatter. She was actually fairly intelligent, compared to most of the people he had to talk to at these things, but he and the others hadn't ever actually made it into a bed last night.

And Tony was officially the CHAMP at Mario Kart, though he was willing to concede that Natasha was badass and Cap and Thor figured out how to cheat really, really quickly. He let his eyes drift to where Clint was standing in his suit, deep in discussion with a couple of politicians on the recent Olympic archery competitions. Despite appearing completely uncomfortable in the outfit, the archer look _damn_ good. Tony needed to give his tailor a bonus.

The woman, apparently realizing she had lost Tony’s attention, excused herself, with a “perhaps another time, Mister Stark,” which actually he was willing. 

“Yeah, for sure,” he replied, grinning cheekily. “Maybe at an interview for a position in R&D, if you are interested in switching up your career.” 

She blushed as she wandered off to talk to some of the other important people in the room, and was quickly replaced by two men interested in investing in his company. They were young, rich, and idiotic, but hey. Investors were investors, and Pepper would murder him if he scared these ones away, so he buttered them up, bought them drinks, and left them happily talking at the bar.

“You have to go to these things every month?”

Tony grinned, turning to face Clint. “Sometimes every week - in November and December and around any of the big charity times, really, it’s even worse.”

Clint groaned. “Everyone who talks to me just wants a picture, an autograph, or to try and design my weapons. Which, duh, I've already got the best doing that. Although this one guy did mention the idea of a boomerang arrow.”

Tony rolled his eyes, inwardly preening at the compliment to his skill. “I’ll get right on that, but I think it’s a lot harder than you realize.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Gentlemen. I require a dance partner.” Natasha said, smoothly interjecting in their conversation.

“No way, you’re terrifying and I’m afraid you’ll kill me if I accidentally step on your toes.” Tony replied without missing a beat.

Clint rolled his eyes and offered an arm to the smirking assassin. Tony watched them go somewhat mournfully. He hated these things. He wanted to dance with Clint, but that wasn't going to happen. He was quickly distracted by a young heiress, who he took to the dance floor. She hung all over him, and he felt his smile get just that much wider, and faker. From the sympathetic looks Clint, Natasha, Steve, and Pepper were sending his way (Bruce had bowed out and Thor had been banned), it was blatantly obvious to anyone that knew him that he was miserable.

Hell if he knew when Steve had made that list.

“Tony,” Pepper murmured as she passed him. “Watch your six.”

So to say he was completely unprepared for the voice that popped up behind him would be a complete lie. Didn't stop every muscle in his body from tensing. “Mister Stark! It’s been some time!”

Pepper was watching, and she’d step in if he got overwhelmed, and he had no doubt the other Avengers present would as well, if necessary.

“Mr. Stone.” He greeted, turning. “How've you been? I haven’t seen you in… God, years.”

He laughed, a warm thing that had been half of why Tony had stayed with the bastard for so many years - _silly, of course I care! Why would you think otherwise? You know you deserved it, you -_. “No need to be so formal, Tiberius is fine.”

“Of course.” Tony replied, ignoring the tension thrumming through his frame as they shook hands. Tiberius’ grip was firm as ever ( _bones twisting, crunching in his hands - no, Ty, anything but my hands, please, please!_ ). “How has the company been, Ty?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” He smiled, all teeth. “Actually, I have been negotiating a joint project with SI through your lovely CEO. Wherever did you find her?”

“Your question implies that I had some choice in the matter.” Tony smirked, all teeth in return. “She just kind of rolled in one day and took over. My board loves her, though, so it worked out nicely for me.”

He would be praying for an Avenger’s emergency right now if that wouldn’t be really bad.

Stone’s voice sank low and leering. “I hope I can work nicely for you too.”

Yeah, no. He was praying. He’d never claimed to be a good man, after all. He kept his return bland and cold ( _No, Ty, I don’t want - did I ask what you wanted, you f-_ ). “Of course, Mr. Stone.” The man’s smile flickered.

“Excuse me, Tony, if I could have a word?”

Thank God. “Sure thing, Steve. Excuse me, Mr. Stone.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

Steve led him right out of the room and into a little-used side room, where the others were waiting. Clint and Natasha taking up a defensive stance at the door. He could feel the tension leak away. “‘sup, guys?”

“We just needed an excuse to get you away.” Steve replied, shrugging. “You were obviously uncomfortable with that guy.”

“Tiberius Stone. Formerly of Viastone, which my dad drove out of business, now of Allen Chemical Corporation, founded during my little stint in Afghanistan and rapidly growing, especially in medical fields.” Tony rubbed a hand over his forehead, instantly regretting it as the others notice the blatant sign of… he didn't even know. Frustration? Regret? Fear? “We were friends originally just to piss our respective asshole dads off. He’s a class A dick and gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘crazy ex’. It’s been more than a decade, bastard’s still trying to get me back in his bed.”

They all blinked at that, before seemingly taking it in stride, though Clint was obviously curious.

“Why is SI dealing with him?”

“Because he may be, well, him, but his research is legitimate, and it’s something we want to keep our eye on - in large part, I must admit, because he’s the CEO.”

“Is his dirty?” Natasha asked.

“Oh, undoubtedly, the trick is getting proof. He’s a genius, and he’s trickier than Loki on a bad day.”

“Does he have any weak spots?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s still deathly terrified of Rhodey.” Tony shrugged. “Other than that? Not much I can think of, other than the blatant obsession with myself and anything affiliated. Guess that probably includes you, too.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully.

Tony hesitated. “We think he might be associated with AIM - that new organization SHIELD’s been dealing with lately.”

“You've been hacking again.” Clint accused, eyes twinkling. Tony smirked back, far less viciously than he’d replied to Stone earlier.

“I’ll let Fury know.” Natasha replied. “Unfortunately, we can’t prevent interaction at parties like these or during this project SI is working on with him. What is it, by the way?”

“We aren't entirely sure.” Tony replied. “His lead scientist on the project is one Aldrich Killian, though; I met him once, years ago. He was a scrawny little midget that looked like he was ill all the time, and now he looks almost as good as Steve.”

“The serum?”

“No, but a derivative of it, maybe.” Tony sighed. “We can’t be missing for too much longer or people are going to get pissy.”

They all nodded, and started leaving. “Clint?” Tony said. “Stay a minute?”

“We’ll wait outside.” Natasha said. Tony nodded, grateful.

“What’s up?”

“I think we maybe need to have the crazy ex talk.”

Clint checked his watch. “We've only got another hour until the party’s over. Do you want to wait until then?”

Tony thought about it, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Clint pulled him close as he stood, lightly kissing his nose and offering a brief moment of warm, real contact. “We’ll watch your back, Tony.”

Tony relaxed at that, grounding himself in the present and trying not to mix the arms holding him close with arms from years ago holding him down.

“Clint… I think I might -”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you think I should bump up the rating on this fic, I'm undecided.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony woke up in a room with no window and a pounding headache. He closed his eyes, keeping his breathing as even as he could and focusing on the flashing memories at the corners of his mind.

_“Tony, Clint - we need to go, now -”_

_“Tash - what’s -”_

_Red light, lots of it -_

_“Clint? Clint?!”_

_“Tony, run, RUN TONY -”_

_Nothing._

That was disconcerting and not exactly helpful except in its ability to make him worry for the others - especially Clint and Natasha -

_Small, familiar hands tugging him along, away, as he screamed for Clint -_

What were they running from, though?

No. Not a what. A who? 

_Mister Stark! It’s been some time!_

No. No, no no no -

“So good of you to drop in, darling! We are going to have _such_ a grand time together!”

Tony didn't need to open his eyes to know that voice. He knew it best in the dark, woken straight out of a nightmare, eyes desperately searching to be sure it wasn't real.

* * *

Every SHIELD agent in the room flinched at every tap of perfectly manicured nails against glass. Including Captain America and Thor. Bruce had long ago excused himself to the Hulk room.

The sharp clicking of heels had most of them cowering back into themselves like they could somehow hide from the approaching storm. A mechanized whirring warned of another, far less deadly ally. And still those nails tapped away, in time with the approaching heels.

The door did not slam open. It slid open with the grace of a panther and the silence of an assassin. It wasn’t the War Machine that drew every eye.

The two red headed women’s eyes met and assessed, and everyone in the room held their breath.

“SI,” said the taller of the two, “Has no legitimate leads that can be followed.”

“Hm.” replied the shorter, but not smaller. “SHIELD doesn’t either.”

Now two sets of perfectly manicured nails tapped away, the men around them warily settling into seats as far away as possible, until everyone’s attention was drawn to a commotion in the hall.

“Please, you shouldn't be breathing, let alone -”

“YOU THINK I GIVE A FUCK?!?!?”

The door did not slam open. It broke off of its hinges. The archer stood in the doorway. Vaguely, Natasha wondered what miracle was keeping him on his feet. Or curse. 

“SI does not have proof, and neither do we.” She said. “All of you, out.” she added as an afterthought. The other agents scrambled over each other to get away, leaving just the Avengers, War Machine, and Pepper.

“SO?! Since when has SHIELD needed -”

“Tiberius Stone flew into Iran yesterday.” Pepper stated clearly. “According to an… inside source.”

Clint stared at her for a long moment before collapsing into the nearest chair, breath coming in harsh pants. “Jarvis.” He stated.

“The existence of the Just A Really Very Intelligent System is a myth.” Pepper replied absently, as Natasha dipped her chin once.

“So what are we waiting for?!”

“Confirmation.” Natasha replied. “We are of no use to Tony if we fly into a trap and end up dead.”

“Well, who’s -”

An exhale at the door drew attention to where Coulson stared at the broken door. “Barton, you should have been dead three times over. Care to tell me why you aren't in a bed?”

Clint met his gaze levelly, and the agent sighed again, throwing a file down on the table. “We might have a lead. Might.”

“Jarvis, scan and display.” Pepper said. Moments later the information hung in the air for all of them to see.

“...Massachusetts?”

Rhodey snorted. “Figures. That brings back memories.”

“Of what?” 

“College, Tony, and Tiberius.”

Natasha slid to her feet. “I need to know everything, Rhodes. Clint, rest up so you’re ready when I call you in. Coulson. Call in the Intern.”

Coulson paled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe you all an apology for the near-radio-silence I've had all summer. Basically, it's been kinda... ugh.
> 
> Living with my parents is bad for my muses. But things are looking up, so hopefully I'll be writing more again.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Also, any good migraine remedies/relief? Mine have been less than effective recently.
> 
> Furthermore, I'm now halfway through the fifth season of Supernatural. If any of you lovely people are fans, any good fanfic recs?


	7. Chapter 7

Tony.

Clint closed his eyes, carefully keeping his breathing even as he waited for something to do, ignoring the pain in his chest and enveloping his back. Instead, he focused.

_”Clint… I think I might-”_

_SLAM - “Tony, Clint - we need to go, now - ”_

_“Tash, what’s -” He remembered shoving Tony and Natasha towards the door as something_ small, silver, and ticking _bounced in, and then pain, and Tony -_

_“- not leaving - Clint, CLINT -”_

_And he forced himself up, following Natasha shoving Tony along, staggering down the hall with them, only to tackle Tony at the sight of a gun barrel_ the man was wearing a mask, why is that mask so damn familiar, _and then pain, and then TONY, Natasha, get Tony out, get him OUT and another flare of pain just above the first, and haunting screams he would never be able to forget._

_“CLINT!”_

_“Tony, move, he’ll be fine, Cap’s right behind us, Tony, run, RUN Tony -” She stumbles slightly when she is hit by a dart_ red-fletched, probably made of a lightweight material, carbon fiber or an aluminum alloy, didn't need to be strong when shot by a halfway decent marksman _and then they are out of sight._

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked, looking up at the redhead, who looked as guilty as he’d ever seen. “What?”

“I’m sorry. You… you trusted me with Tony, and I…”

“Tash. It wasn't your fault. They hit you with enough tranqs to take down the Hulk and you kept going for another twenty minutes.”

“It wasn’t your fault either.”

Clint sighed. “I know. I know, damn it.” He hoped he didn't sound like he was desperately trying to convince himself.

“What’s go my two favorite super-assassins looking so glum? It’s like a morgue in here, seriously - oh my God, CAPTAIN AMERICA, Your abs really are that good -”

Despite himself, Clint felt a small smile flit across his lips. “Darcy.”

“You know, I was a little surprised by Coulson’s call. He doesn't like me much.”

Fuck, she sounded like…

“Tony,” he managed to say, and she blinked at him.

“You mean that guy you've been wanting to date? What about… Holy shit, you’re dating Iron Man? Where is he, anyway, I mean I get to meet everyone else -” She fell silent as the tension in the air tripled.

“Gone.” Natasha said simply. “How do you feel about going undercover with me?”

“I’m not great at that.”

“We’re going to college, dear.”

“Well in that case,” Darcy said with a grin, “I’m your girl. Literally, if need be, because you are damn fine. Please don’t kill me for stating the obvious.”

Luckily, Natasha treated Darcy like some sort of small, adorable woodland animal that should be brought inside to protect it from the rain and fed warm milk and vodka to make it more manageable. Kind of like she treated Tony.

“I need a good look at the darts they hit you with. Something about them was… familiar.”

“I’ll get them to you.” Phil said.

Tony.

* * *

Clint. Was Clint alive? He had to be. Right?

“Hello, Ty. Tell me, how many Avengers did you have to kill?”

“Oh, it wasn't so hard. I think they all lived, actually. They just know how worthless you are, that’s all.”

No, no, no. “Liar.” Clint and Rhodey would come. Even if no one else would. Clint - Clint was alive - Clint would...

“Well, I certainly don’t see them here,” Tiberius said, making a point of looking into the small dark corners of Tony’s room. “No, definitely not. Do you recognize the place, by the way?”

Oh yeah. He recognized it. “You’re insane. The Avengers will come and you will regret this.”

“Ah, but I don’t believe they will. Why would anyone come for you?”

Tony shivered at the matter-of-fact words - words that haunted his nightmares. “Not everyone is a dick like you, Stone.”

“Oh, I know. It must have been so hard for you among the masses without me to take care of you, pet.”

“I am NOT your pet!”

Tiberius sighed, long and slow. “Well now, it seems you've fallen into bad habits. If you aren't careful I’ll treat you like the mutt you are, Tony.”

“Just because I’m not old money -”

“Of course not JUST because, Tony.” Tiberius affectionate gaze made his skin absolutely crawl with loathing. “Are you going to behave?”

“Go to hell.”

“A pity; it seems you will need to be retrained.” In an instant, two men almost as big as Thor had him pinned and chained.

Tiberius twirled a pipe in one hand. “Oh, this should be fun. I do so love to get my hands dirty.”

Tony choked, trying to escape the hard metal. “Enjoy your fun while it lasts,” he spit. Clint was coming. He had to be. “Remember Rhodey? I’m very sure - agh!”

“Shut it, mutt.”

Clint.


	8. Chapter 8

Darcy made an excellent front while Natasha played the introverted new college student. She took most of the attention for herself and directed potential informants to ‘my friend there, in the back - she’s a little shy, so be nice’. Unfortunately, none of them knew anything about Stone except that he had recently made a very generous donation to the school, and all of them claimed it was for something different - the college rumor mill at work.

“Anything to report, Spider?”

“Negative, Robot. The only thing anyone seems to know is that Stone recently made a generous donation to the school.”

“Red and Suit may be able to find out more, I’ll pass that along. If we can figure out what the donation was for, I might be able to figure out where they are.”

“Spider out.”

* * *

Tony was very, very hot. It was a familiar heat, remembered from long hours spent in its grasp.

“Figure out where we’ve hidden yet? We met here, remember? I recently offered a large donation, but as usual, the department decided things other than the AC were of greater import, and most of the students agree.”

“MIT,” Tony managed. “Oh, you idiot, you fabulous, amazing idiot.”

“Now, now, Pet, watch your language.” Tony flinched away from the hand that settled to card through his hair as best he could and fell silent, drawing a slight laugh from the other man. “Well, I think we’ve made progress! A few more training sessions and you’ll remember your old obedience training, hm, Pet?”

“No.” Tony said, dry mouth and throat making the words crack. “ _No_.”

Tiberius frowned. “I’m sure we can manage to rid you of this disgusting habit of deciding things for yourself, as well - just like old times, before you betrayed me.”

Tony smirked. “Have those scars faded yet, bitch?” Tiberius slammed him back against the wall, but even choking for air, Tony couldn’t bring himself to regret the insult.

“No,” he snarled, “They haven’t.” He paused. Rubbing a gentle finger over Tony’s chapped lips, a thoughtful look appeared on his face. Oh, no. No. It was never good for him when Ty got _ideas_. “We should match, don’t you think?”

He hadn’t believed he would ever regret what Rhodey had done when he discovered exactly what Tiberius had been up to. Tony hadn’t always been Iron Man - and Rhodey hadn’t always been a soldier. He had, however, been very, very inventive. People tended to forget that Rhodey's degree had also been in engineering, and that underneath the soldier lay a brilliant brain.

Tiberius palmed a knife, and Tony jerked against his handcuffs uselessly. Ty ruthlessly flipped him over and pressed the cold metal to the skin of his back.

“Please, no, Tiberius _please_ -”

“Well, maybe we won’t match perfectly,” Tiberius mused, “I wouldn’t want to ruin my pet, after all. Instead, I think a couple words will do.”

Tony only lasted until the cross of the T before he screamed, realizing what Ty had planned.

How could he possibly look Clint in the eye with another man’s brand across his back?

* * *

Clint forced himself to be still. He spends his life in stillness interrupted by flurries of movement, peering down over the scenes below and waiting for his target to move into sight. He killed at a distance, cleanly. This time, though… this time, he’ll make an exception. If - when - they find him, Tiberius Stone will get to meet not Hawkeye of SHIELD, but instead Clint Barton, the man who beat the Black Widow in hand to hand combat that one time. He wouldn’t meet Natasha Romanov, but Natalia Romanova, wouldn’t meet Captain America, but Steve Rogers; the Hulk, not Banner, and Thor.

Tony drew them together, gave them a home and a focus, without asking for anything in return except the title of Consultant. The man was a goddamn Avenger, and they didn’t leave their own; more importantly, Tony was just sort of his, and unless the man himself ordered Clint to go or to leave him, he was fucking staying.

The door slid open, and Clint zeroed in on Natasha as she entered, returning to crafting arrowheads only after she shook her head.

These were not the sleek broadheads or pointed explosive tips that came from Tony’s workshop. These were hard obsidian beaten into submission by itself, rugged and vicious.

If he couldn’t get his hands around Stone’s throat, at least he could put a very painful shard of obsidian in his eye.

* * *

After two days passed with no further clues, Pepper called back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence! I had to move up to college and readjust to the course schedule. I should be posting more regularly again now! :)


	9. Chapter 9

The moment Tiberius left the room, Tony staggered to his feet. His range of movement was extremely limited; Ty left him handcuffed to the desk by one wrist. Trying to ignore the sick feeling in his chest and the blood on his back, Tony looked around for something of use. The camera wasn’t immediately obvious, but there had to be one; Tiberius was always very overprotective of his stuff, and Tony, unfortunately, fell under that category.

Being the genius he was, Tony eventually located the small camera, trying not to make it obvious. It was high-tech, better than he would have expected from the scumbag, and beyond his wildest dreams. Oh, the things he could do with a camera!

If only it wasn’t out of reach. But there were ways around that too. Once upon a time, Tiberius cowed him enough that he wouldn’t dare, but he wasn’t a scared sixteen year old college student anymore.

He was Tony fucking Stark, and he could panic later.

* * *

Pepper Potts strode into the room as though she owned it, and she did. Tiberius Stone lounged lazily at the table, pristine suit and smirk irking her to no end.

“Steady, Potts, I’m right here.”

Pepper didn’t bother to respond, her own perfect heels clicking firmly against the floor as she moved into position. It would take far more than a dirty businessman to throw her off. She’d dealt with Tony for decades, and he taught her all the most important tricks of the trade, including the perfect appearance and carefully maintained smile to throw off even the most experienced businessmen. She could do this even without the advantage of having Clint Barton in the vents and the Black Widow playing PA just outside the door.

A pissed Pepper Potts, Tony once remarked, was the most terrifying force in the known universes.

“Mr. Stone! I hadn’t expected a call so soon!”

“I apologize Ms. Potts, I merely want to get this project moving as soon as possible. I believe it could benefit medical fields for decades to come.”

“Of course! You do understand, however, that although I am CEO, the signing of things will have to wait until Tony has a spare moment?”

“Yes, and it shouldn’t be a problem, I simply want to see if we can hammer out the negotiation stage early on. I remember from school Mr. Stark’s legendary dislike of paperwork.”

Pepper nodded, sighing. “It can be quite troublesome at times, but I’m sure I can convince him to sign things. Or at least forge his signature.”

Tiberius laughed. “I can see why he likes you.”

“Oh! Before we get started; SI has recently been looking into offering a large donation to MIT. Tony doesn’t keep up with the school much - I was hoping perhaps you could offer a possible department that needs the funding? If it’s not too bothersome of me to ask, of course, I just believe alumni are the best judges.”

“Well, I can certainly be of some help, I hope. I recently offered a donation myself, to the Department of Engineering; perhaps one of the bio or medical departments could use a donation? They were ghastly far behind in tech when we attended there.”

“Thank you for the suggestion. I really was at my wits end trying to come up with something to pitch the board.”

Tiberius pulled a face, and Pepper responded to his banter by rote, setting up a longer meeting the next week to get into the meat of the project after Stone presented his ideas for some project called Extremis. She left the meeting to the feeling of a job well done.

“Damn, girl.” Clint said. “Remind me never to piss you off. How the hell do the two of you _do_ that?”

Entering the common room, she responded, “Years of practice. Running a multi-billion company isn’t unlike covert ops. I also have two black belts and a conceal and carry permit, though I have never had reason to make use of it. Tony makes all of his employees above a certain pay grade take self-defense classes - Jane is enrolled in one too.”

“Department of Engineering.” Rhodey thought aloud. “Engineering, engineering… Jarvis, can you pull up a map of campus on the wall? Highlight buildings where Tony and I took engineering classes.”

“Of course, Colonel Rhodes.”

“Can you give me side by sides of the old blueprints and renovations that have taken place since we graduated?”

Jarvis did so. “Highlight differences. Make each one a different color.” Thirteen spots lit up. “Ditch the blue and green. Toss out the pink one.”

“Rhodes?” Clint demanded. “You can’t just -”

“Tiberius never met Tony in those buildings, their class schedules were too different.” Rhodey said absently. “Ditch the orange too, J, I doubt he’d risk it. Nix all the ones in the art building, Stone wouldn’t have been caught dead there, even for architecture classes.” Six spots remained. “How recently were these renovated - ditch any done before this or last year.”

Three left. Rhodes tapped his chin thoughtfully. “This one is the most likely,” he said eventually, highlighting a room. “It’s the location of the only class the two ever had together, and only one class is taught there each semester. It’s small, secluded, and the AC doesn’t work so no professor wants the rooms in the area. I can’t rule out the others, though; one hosted a science fair Tony beat Stone at and the other is a small library where they both studied - it’s least likely, since it’s the most public.”

“So.” Steve said grimly. “Now what?”

* * *

Scavenging the camera for his own needs earned him a fresh beating, but Tony considered it a small price to pay.

He could hear. The small radio couldn’t get messages out, or hack any high-tech signals, or even do much beyond pick up music stations and the occasional phone call, but he could hear. The small device, hidden under a loose floorboard beneath the old oak desk, reminded him that the world remained bigger than this room and Ty’s voice. More existed than what kept him here. He could hold back the panic and self-loathing and disgust sure to follow when he was somewhere safe, and he could hear.

What he heard gave him hope.

Because he could have sworn that last phone call it managed to register was between Natasha and Darcy in flawless code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh SCHOOL
> 
> I'll try to update everything again between midterms and finals
> 
> Maybe
> 
> probably


	10. Chapter 10

_Thud._

It was astonishing how loud a person’s heart could beat, Clint thought.

_Thud._

Louder, and louder. He could probably hear it without his hearing aids if he tried.

_Thud._

The only thing louder was the echo of those last words Tony had spoken before their fragile peace was shattered: Clint, I think I -

_Thud._

He walked a little faster, vaguely aware of Natasha and Darcy as they walked down the hall ahead of him, arms full of books. The more well-known Avengers (Bruce. Steve. Thor.) waited, back-up if they were noticed. Clint didn’t care. He wanted to know how that sentence ended.

The door was sort of hidden, and no one spared him half a glance when he slid a key into the lock. This whole thing felt… anticlimactic. Far too easy.

The door opened. Tony leaned up against a huge desk, black, blue, and bloody.

“ _Tony_ ,” Clint breathed.

Tony looked up, an arm around his torso. The other was handcuffed to the desk. “Clint,” he said, “ _Clint_ , oh my God, you’re alive, that’s, that’s good -”

“Tony, you’re bleeding -” he had a hand resting gently on Tony’s arm, a pick in the lock, but couldn’t really recall moving across the room.

“From my back, not fatal or anything -”

“Let me -”

“NO!” Tony practically shrieked. “No, just, let Bruce at it first, _please_ , I swear I’ll let him check up and everything -”

Was… was Tony basically saying he’d be good? Shit, shit, shit, “I’m going to fucking kill him,” Clint growled as the cuffs finally came free. In moments, he found himself with his hands full of shuddering, smelly genius. He found dry lips with his own, letting Tony press against him rather than trying to push back, letting Tony have a little control after the experience, until Tony was pulling back with a pained gasp, shadowy eyes meeting Clint’s.

“Really thirsty,” Tony said, and collapsed.

Clint’s hand flew to his comm. “I’ve got an unconscious billionaire, I need Bruce in here _now_!”

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the dryness. It was worse than Afghanistan; waterboarding may suck, but at least he was regularly getting the precious liquid. His lips felt swollen and cracked, and judging by the slight tang on his tongue, they’d been bleeding at some point. His throat ached with every breath, scratching like glass - judging by the slight pressure on his face, there was a mask on him.

He couldn’t really feel much else by way of pain; probably a blessing. He could, however, recognize soft cotton sheets on skin, and the warmth of another hand in his own. He heard his least favorite sound in the world; the steady beeping that meant he had gone through Hell once again and lived to tell the tale. 

He focused, trying to remember before opening his eyes. Why did the cool air on his skin make him want to cry? Why did his body feel thick, heavy?

_\- relearn some lessons, pet -_

Oh. Right. Tiberius. Tony wrenched his eyelids open, unwilling to watch his nightmares play back in three dimensions across the darkness. Blinking at the white ceiling, he turned his head towards the source of the warmth in his hand.

Clint sat in one of the most uncomfortable chairs known to mankind; the ones found in hospital waiting rooms. He was a mess of controlled stillness, even hunched over in what had to be the most uncomfortable sleeping posture of all time. Tony smiled at him dopily. The archer’s hair was mussed, his breathing even. His smile faded when he noted the rumpled clothes and dark shadows under the other man’s eyes.

And… had he seen…

“He’s been here since Bruce declared it okay for you to have visitors,” Natasha said from the door. “I acted as Bruce’s ‘nurse’.”

Tony met her eyes, hoping she could read his mind.

“No one else knows. The words may scar, but it shouldn’t be noticeable.” Natasha paused, watching him acknowledge that. “You were very badly injured. When you collapsed, you managed to break a few cracked ribs, and one of them punctured a lung. Bruce had to call in professionals, but oversaw everything. We also wired Jarvis in.”

“Welcome back, sir.”

Tony felt some of the gathering tension in his shoulders seep away. Jarvis had him, he was safe. And if he knew Natasha at all (which he thought he did, as much as she allowed anyone to know her, anyway) she had been standing guard at the door for he and Clint.

Natasha pulled his mask free, as the hand Clint wasn’t holding had an IV in it, and offered him a straw. “Slow,” she instructed.

Tony sipped as slowly as he could, feeling himself wake up a little more with the hydration. When he was done, he sighed and leaned back. “How did you find me?” he asked, still a little bit hoarse.

“Coulson received information that led him to believe you could be at MIT. Rhodes figured out exactly where Stone was holding you.”

“Stone?”

“We don’t know.”

Tony stared at her. They didn’t know. They didn’t -

“Tony, breathe, you’re safe - Tony, breathe -”

“Rhodey,” he choked, his vision graying out slightly as he tugged his arms in around himself, restrictions be damned. “I need - _Jarvis_ -”

Clint was up now, he registered somewhere in the back of his head. Talking. He felt a sharp pain in his spine as he tried to move and panicked more - he didn’t want Clint to see, he wasn’t Tiberius’, he wasn’t, he wasn’t-

“Tony.”

“Rhodey- Rhodey-”

“Where’s your head at, kid?”

“G-grad summer - I think - _Rhodey_ -”

“Tony, listen. You are safe. I need you to breathe, okay, Tones? Breathe with Natasha.”

His hand was pressed up to Natasha’s abdomen, then. She held it there gently as Tony tried to breathe. 

“Describe her, Tony. Focus. You are in the hospital. The Avengers - every single one - are standing guard. You are safe. Describe Natasha.”

“R-red hair,” he managed, breaths coming a little bit easier. “Green eyes. They - they look black when she’s pissed.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him.

“And she does the eyebrow thing when she’s amused. N-not that she would ever admit it.”

“That’s right, Tony. Keep breathing. You’re doing a g- an excellent job.”

“Rhodey, come back.”

“I will, I’ll be there soon.” Rhodey’s voice came crystal clear through Natasha’s comm, tucked carefully into his ear by the super assassin. How had he missed that?

Clint was standing warily by the door. Tony couldn’t decide whether to reach for him or run. Well, if he was physically capable of running. He couldn’t feel anything. “Natasha, could you get Bruce? I think I pulled stitches.”

Natasha nodded once, and left the room. Clint stared at the floor, silent.

“Are… are you okay?” Tony asked.

“Am _I_ -”

“I distinctly remember some crazy idiot taking a bullet or two for me.” Tony said trying, and by the look on Clint’s face failing, to keep the guilt out of his voice.

“You would have done the same for me,” Clint said. “Yes, I’m okay, at least physically.”

Tony felt the remaining tension from his panic attack seep from his shoulders. “Good,” he sighed.

“Do you want me here?”

“I don’t want you gone,” Tony replied, wincing at how raw the words sounded coming out.

Clint crossed the room, carefully picked up the cup, and offered him more water, which Tony drank happily. When the genius was done, Clint carefully settled back into his chair.

“How long was I out?”

“Four days.”

Tony winced. “You didn’t have to stay the whole time.”

“I couldn’t actually bring myself to leave. Well, except once when Natasha forced me to go home and shower and eat.” A pause. “Tony… what did he do?”

Tony breathed very carefully. “Then or now?”

“Whatever you need to talk about.”

Tony sighed. “Help me sit up, please.”

Clint instantly moved, fluffing pillows and sitting the seat up slowly.

“I don’t know if I can talk about it right now. Not… here.”

“I can wait.”

Tony’s heart ached at that, and he nodded once. He didn’t know if he could talk to Clint, period. Clint was… he thought he might love the man, and here he was, unloading all his baggage at once, less than a month after they officially started dating. Not to mention all the baggage he’d added in the last little while. He had another man’s name carved into his back. Tony had been pretty useless before. Now he wasn’t even pretty. He was broken, and now the Avengers knew it.

“Can I… have a minute?” he asked.

Clint nodded easily. “I’ll be just outside. The others will want to say hello.”

“Keep them at bay until Bruce checks my stitches?”

“Sure thing. If Rhodey arrives, I’ll send him in.”

“Thank you.” 

Clint stood and walked to the door. 

“Clint?” the other man paused. “I… thanks.”

“No problem, Tony.”

The door shut behind him, leaving Tony (for at least a moment) alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I've got a hundred followers!!! I never thought I'd reach fifty author follows, let alone a hundred! In celebration, I am attempting to update EVERY incomplete fic I've got running this weekend. No guarantees, but that's the goal. 
> 
> Sorry for the long break between updates! School does that to a person. Hope you liked it!
> 
> PS if anyone has any knowledge of publishing/editing internships/jobs in northern Utah, please let me know. :)


	11. Chapter 11

The Avenger’s visited for a few minutes each before leaving to give Tony time to rest and figure his own head out. After visiting hours ended (though Tony could see red that implied Natasha may still be standing guard) and once Tony had convinced Clint to go home and get some decent sleep, his door swung open, revealing Coulson standing there.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Agent.”

“Tiberius Stone’s status has been upgraded to suspected supervillain in all of SHIELD’s files. All active agents are to notify us immediately of his movements and sightings. We’re looking into the work his company is doing.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, vaguely horrified that his voice shook slightly.

“SHIELD is willing to offer you one of our psychologists if you wish,” Coulson continued.

“No, I’ve got one of my own, and she’s very good at what she does.”

“I was unaware you had a psychologist on staff.”

“She keeps a low profile.”

“Hm.”

Coulson sat in the uncomfortable chair, and they were silent for a time. “Clint Barton has plenty of scars of his own.”

“I doubt any of those scars are the name of an ex carved into his spine.”

“No, but he won’t blame you for that.”

“Logically, I am aware,” Tony said, trying to steer the the conversation away from dangerous waters.

“Are you?”

Tony looked away. “I’ve spent most of my life being blamed for things I had no control over. It’s hard to break the habit.”

Coulson stood, walking to the door. “You are a good man, Mr. Stark - if a bit of a nuisance. Much like Agent Barton, in fact.”

The door swung open and shut. 

Tony stared at the ceiling for a long time before he fell asleep.

* * *

Clint Barton was staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep. He sighed, and rolled over on his stomach. Now he was staring at a wall trying to sleep.

The archer had let Tony talk him into coming home to rest, and Clint had agreed. He wanted to be there for Tony if the man needed him, and grumpy, sleepless assassin was exactly the opposite of helpful. He knew from experience. Grumpy, sleepless assassins tied people to chairs until they admitted they were injured/suffering from a mental breakdown. It wasn’t an ideal solution by any means.

The main problem was that his body was still thrumming with the need to make sure Tony was okay. With a groan, Clint got back up; if he couldn’t sleep, he could try and wear himself out at target practice, and maybe then get some sleep.

Walking from his room to the gym, Clint thought. He wanted to help Tony, but he wasn’t sure _how_ he was supposed to do so. He had never been trained for a scenario like this; past abusive relationship come back to haunt a person? Yeah, not in his repertoire of “fucked up shit I’ve learned to deal with,” surprisingly. He worried that his mere presence could make things worse, so he needed to be very careful about listening when Tony needed space. He was terrible at listening.

No one would tell him exactly what was wrong with Tony’s back, either. He’d needed stitches for something, but Clint hadn’t actually seen the wound. Whatever it was, Tony definitely didn’t want anyone to know about it. Clint’s suspicions couldn’t be answered by any of the others, though, so he had to hope Tony would tell him.

He couldn’t help if he couldn’t pinpoint the problem. 

He drew back an arrow and blinked; he’d strung the thing by rote, apparently - he didn’t remember arriving in the gym at all, “Jarvis, give me a mug shot.”

A projection of Tiberius Stone’s face popped up in front of a target, and Clint took great pleasure in shooting his face full of pointy sticks.

“Agent Barton.”

He jumped. “Coulson.”

“What exactly are you doing.”

“...Not sleeping?”

Coulson raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Can’t sleep?” Clint adjusted. 

Coulson sighed. “Natasha is standing guard over Tony as we speak, and Jarvis can easily project the idiot’s vitals on your wall for you. Go to bed, agent.”

Clint easily gathered his arrows and put his gear away. He paused at the exit of the range. “What happened to Tony’s back?”

“That is for him to tell you.”

Well, it was worth a try.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Flashback/Panic attack

The day Bruce agreed to let Tony out of the hospital was both fabulous and frightening. Rhodey, who had arrived and spent a few days letting Tony talk through some things about last time, had to leave, but Clint was right there with him, and though Tony would never tell the archer, that was part of his fear. He tried to squash the voice in the back of his head insisting that Clint would leave the moment he saw the wounds on Tony’s back, but it was persistent.

He needed to know how Clint was going to react. Clint really didn’t need to see, but Tony needed him to see. It was all a great big mess. In the end, because Tony was a selfish, selfish ~~pet~~ man, he sighed and decided.

“What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Clint. Just… thinking.”

“Want to go blow shit up?”

“I want my bed. And I want Jarvis.”

“That’s definitely doable.” Clint helped him up, throwing an arm around his shoulders and letting him walk under his own power. Wherever Tony led, Clint followed.

It was probably the most comforting feeling Tony experienced since the whole mess started. “Thank you,” he breathed, and meant it.

Clint looked a little confused, but nodded. “Anytime.” He reached forward, opening the door to Tony’s room, and helped him settle into bed on his stomach, relaxing against his sheets and pillows with a sigh, this time of relief. Clint moved to pull away, to leave him alone or give him space, and Tony’s hand shot out of its own volition to seize the archer’s wrist. Tony refused to look up at the archer, letting go when he realized what he had done.

He heard Clint get up off the bed and footsteps moving around the room. A glass of water and his painkillers were lined up on his nightstand, making small tapping sounds when they touched the wood. Tony expected Clint to leave.

A heavy weight dipped the other side of the bed, and a warm body pressed up against his side, careful as a cat.

Tony felt himself relax even a little more, and he was finally, finally able to sleep.

...

“Tony. Tones, you need to wake up.”

He blinked awake to Clint’s hand in his hair, comfortably cool all over. “Don’ wanna,” he replied.

“The bandages on your back need to be changed,” Clint said. The archer handed him a glass of water and helped him sit up. “I’ll call Bruce.”

Tony took a deep breath. “...Could you do it?”

Clint froze. “Are you sure?”

No. He nodded his head. Best to rip it off like a bandaid.

“Okay. Let me go get bandages and stuff.”

Tony nodded, struck by the oddness of the situation. He and Clint were never this serious, it just didn’t feel right. “Don’t take too long, handsome,” he said, trying to project some normalcy into the stressful situation. Clint, thankfully, seemed just as desperate, grabbing onto the poor joke with ease.

“Don’t wait up, honey,” he said with a small smirk.

Tony’s lips twitched, but he knew. If he waited up after this he’d be waiting forever, because Clint would leave.

* * *

Clint eased Tony’s shirt up over his shoulders, apprehensive. Tony had allowed no one except Natasha and Bruce to see the wounds on his back, and Clint suspected that was only due to the fact that they had already seen before he woke up. This was a show of trust that Clint barely wanted to contemplate, despite the blatant nerves and fear the other man was displaying with tense movements and carefully controlled breathing, silently sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him.

Carefully, Clint started undoing medical tape and bandages. The material fell away, and he felt his hands freeze.

Carved into Tony’s back, harsh and red on tan skin, were words. Words Clint knew he would never, ever be able to remove from where they were now seared into his memory.

Tony shifted uncomfortably, giving him a nervous glance, and Clint reminded himself to breathe, trying to relax his shaking hands. “I’ll kill him,” the archer said, closing his eyes and trying to get himself back under control.

“...You… aren’t mad?”

“Oh, I’m pissed. Tiberius Stone is going to be visiting Hell very shortly.”

Tony looked at him with wide eyes, and the penny dropped. Clint’s own eyes widened. “Tony,” he asked, “did you think I was going to be mad at you?”

Tony hesitated, which was answer enough, and said, “Sort of? Kind of a knee-jerk reflex.”

Clint sighed, and began applying ointment, tracing jagged letters. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

Tony ducked his head, and Clint’s anger kept building as he rewrapped the words carved into the genius’ back, hiding them from the world.

Like _hell_ Tony was ‘Ty Stone’s bitch’ and Clint was going to kill the bastard who had dared lay a finger on what was precious to him.

“I’m going to go down to the archery range, because I have an effigy of that bastard that I feel the urge to disembowel very, very slowly. And this is NOT YOUR FAULT, got it?”

Tony nodded. He was still too quiet, and Clint didn’t like it.

“Tell Jarvis if you want me back up here, okay, Tones?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in a bit. Try and eat something.”

Tony nodded, and Clint left the room, finally letting himself feel the rage he’d been carefully controlling.

“SHIT!”

* * *

When Clint walked out the door, Tony was pretty sure the little tiny pieces of his heart that were left shattered. He was being unreasonable. Clint said he only needed a minute, that he wasn’t mad at Tony. Clint wouldn’t leave if he wasn’t mad.

Would he?

(He did.)

Tony stared at his ceiling, carefully not moving, or making too much noise. He wanted Clint back pretty much immediately, but the archer had already done way more for him than Tony ahd ever expected. He didn’t want to be any more of an annoyance than he already had been for the other Avengers. Not only had he made them come find him, but they’d hung around while he was in the hospital, and they made sure he had food and water, and was comfortable. So Clint left, big deal. He… he was Tony Stark. He could be a professional about this, they could stay friends and stuff, like Pepper. Right? Right. He just had to keep from being too annoying, so they wouldn’t stay gone.

God, he was being so stupid. Damn Stone and his ability to make Tony feel like the dirt beneath everyone else’s boots.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“What? Yeah, of course, J, why do you ask?”

“You appear to be crying, sir.”

“Just tired.”

Jarvis fell silent, and Tony returned his attention to the ceiling, closing his eyes to try and get some sleep.

His nose itched. He scratched it.

The silence buzzed in his ears. He had Jarvis turn on some tunes, quietly, and kept his eyes closed. What felt like hours passed, music unable to lull him to sleep like it usually could when his mind was too busy.

His bed was too big.

He was cold rather than comfortably cool.

His pillows were too soft.

The tears on his face reminded him of Afghanistan.

He could still hear silky words slithering through his mind, from two different eras and two different men for two different reasons.

Tony wanted to cry and scream and get angry, but he couldn’t. And he was alone. His breath caught in his throat, and he was moving, fighting restraints that couldn’t possibly be real, because the blankets were too heavy and he needed to get out, he had to be able to move, to dodge the next blow - he couldn’t _breathe_ \- he could see Tiberius standing there with a fist raised, but that was impossible - Jarvis - _Jarvis_ -

“Tony. Tones, look at me.”

He looked up, terrified of the repercussions if he didn’t. He noted vaguely that he was now on the floor in a corner. Piercing blue eyes met his, and Tony tried to focus.

“Tony, you need to breathe.” His hand was guided up, resting on the person’s chest. “Deep breaths, okay? Breathe with me.”

Tony tried to obey, coughing a little as he slowly adjusted to match… Clint. Clint’s breathing. He curled his fingers into the archer’s shirt as best he could, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t -

“S-s-sorry,” he managed to force out.

“Sh, just breathe. It’s fine, Tony. It’s okay. I’m right here, and you’re right here. You’re safe for the moment.”

Tony sucked in another deep breath, feeling his pulse start to settle. “Sorry,” he said again when he was breathing more regularly.

“Please stop apologizing.”

“Sor-” he cut himself off.

“It’s fine, Tony,” Clint said, helping him back up to sit on the bed.

Tony relaxed a bit when the archer slid into place next to him, and turned, leaning on Clint just enough to reassure himself of the other man’s presence.

“Is everything alright, Antoshka?” a familiar voice asked.

Tony looked up at Natasha hovering in the door. He forced himself to nod. Her eyes sharpened.

“Are you lying to me?”

Tony didn’t bother to answer. He felt Clint sigh at his side.

“Would you like me to throw the idiot out?”

Involuntarily, Tony’s grip went white-knuckled where he was still holding onto Clint’s shirt.

Natasha nodded as though something had just been confirmed, and then entered, sliding into the bed on his other side. She didn’t touch, of course, and sat straight as a board. Keeping watch.

Tony felt tension drain out of his muscles so fast he would have fallen over had he been standing. He could see Clint relax a little too. When had he started to trust the assassin, anyway?

Natasha reached past him to the untouched grilled cheese and water on the nightstand and settled the plate in his lap, giving the water to Clint to hold. “Eat,” she ordered.

Tony may be in awful shape, but he wasn’t suicidal, so he picked the sandwich up with trembling fingers and took a bite. Natasha nodded approvingly, and suddenly, as though given permission, Tony decided he felt ravenous. Clint made him stop chewing periodically to make him drink, and if he noticed the way Tony had to look away from the water while he sipped at it, the assassin didn’t mention it.

When he finished, Natasha and Clint moved the dishes back to the nightstand. Clint settled him down - on top of the covers this time - and carefully spooned against his back. Natasha took up a position at the foot of the bed, facing the door.

Tony closed his eyes, and with barely a thought, slept.

(His bed wasn’t so big anymore.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I am currently preparing to graduate and life has gotten pretty hectic.
> 
> Happy Easter, to all ya'll that celebrate it! :)


	13. Chapter 13

Clint relaxed as Tony’s breaths evened out, indicating the billionaire’s descent into sleep. Natasha also relaxed, but only slightly, keeping her eyes on the doorway, only flickering back to her brothers once in a while to make sure they were keeping it together.

“Jarvis, when did Tony first display signs of being upset?”

Jarvis hesitated. “Within ten minutes of Mister Barton’s absence, Miss Romanov.”

“Was it Clint’s absence specifically, or being alone in general that upset him?”

“A little bit of both, I believe.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. “So he’ll need company for a while. That’s easily doable.”

Clint frowned. “He specifically asked for time to himself at the hospital.”

“He also knew I was standing guard at the door, and Rhodey was on his way. I’m more surprised that he is more afraid of being alone than of being in company.”

“Hm, good point.”

“He may not want to talk about it with you, Clint.”

“Huh?”

“You said you would be there if he needed to talk. What if he does, but not to you?”

Clint stared at her, looking a little hurt. “He -”

“Has some insecurities. He might need to talk, but it might also terrify him to do it with you.”

“...Like he didn’t want me to see his back.”

“Mhm.”

Clint sighed, and leaned back, considering the redhead’s words. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to be patient.”

* * *

**A Week Later**

Tony beamed at Bruce from where he sat in the lab, absolutely ignoring the fact that he was still supposed to be in bed. “Brucie! So, look, I just developed this new thing -”

Bruce sighed, raising an eyebrow.

“If I have to stay in bed any longer my brain will drive itself insane.”

“Okay, but next time, please tell someone - besides Jarvis and Clint - that you’re running away to hang out with your robots.”

Clint smirked from his position on the end of Tony’s couch, where he was throwing a ball for Dummy to play with while Tony worked. “Don’t worry doc, I won’t let him do any heavy lifting.”

Bruce snorted. “You two’s ideas of heavy lifting differ greatly from the rest of ours.” Bruce surveyed them, secretly pleased. The two had been very good for each other; Clint didn’t want to see Tony hurt worse, so he had forced Tony to stay in bed longer than he normally might have, by staying with the genius. This, in turn, gave Clint’s injuries more time to heal without his constant training reopening them.

He’d also noticed that Natasha was standing guard pretty much always, somewhere in the vicinity of Tony and Clint (who hadn’t really been separated all week). However, he was worried that Tony’s sudden turn around into never-ending cheer was covering up much darker emotions and issues that needed to be dealt with before Tony could move forward.

And he was also worried that Tiberius Stone would be back, and soon.

SHIELD still hadn’t found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long! I hit a little bit of a block with this story, but I think I've figured out where I want it to go and so I finally have an update. It's just a little filler-type one, but it should lead back to my more regular updates again.
> 
> Thank you all for being patient with me!!!


	14. Chapter 14

Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, had no experience whatsoever with providing comfort for others. None at all. She found herself taken by surprise when her presence calmed Tony down, even if she was just lingering outside a doorway or the next room over. She was even more surprised because last time she checked, Tony didn’t trust her at all. Now, suddenly, she turned into his comfort blanket.

She suspected it was because she barely treated him differently than before he was taken. Also because she had fought so hard trying to prevent it. Tony himself didn’t seem to be sure why he felt so comfortable around her lately, so she wasn’t too worried about understanding. Contrary to popular belief, despite her dislike of showing and control of her emotions, she did have feelings; it made her warm to know Tony trusted her now, when he barely trusted himself.

Entering the communal kitchen, she paused and made a small noise when she realized Tony was there. It may be good fun to startle him on a normal day, but he was twitchy right now for very good reason. Sure enough, he jumped and grabbed a nearby knife, relaxing when he realized it was her.

“Natasha,” he said, returning to making his sandwich.

“Tony,” she replied, moving past him to pull leftover spaghetti out of the fridge. She didn’t offer to help him with the sandwich. Everyone else babied him a bit, and although she didn’t blame them for that, right now he needed to do something for himself. She put her own food in the microwave instead.

She would escort him back to bed and force him to rest after they ate. He needed a few more days mostly on bedrest before he could move properly without too much risk of damaging his stitches and back worse. He couldn't handle being alone for more than ten minutes at a time yet either, though he kept trying to slip away from everyone anyway.

“Not going to force me back to bed?” he asked.

“After you eat,” she replied, pulling her spaghetti out of the microwave as it beeped.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, because I really need more time to think,” he mumbled.

“As if you ever stop,” Natasha said, watching his expression.

“True, but it gets frustrating to have too many ideas crammed in my head. It’s part of why I have trouble sleeping so often.”

Natasha nodded, understanding now why maybe forced bed rest with no access to any sort of work might actually turn detrimental. She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a fork as she spoke. “I’ll see about sneaking you some paperwork, maybe a tablet.”

Tony looked surprised. “Thanks,” he said. 

Natasha nodded, winding spaghetti around her fork and taking a bite. Tony finished crafting his sandwich and came around to sit across from her, on the other side of the bar to where she was standing. This intentionally put Natasha between Tony and the exit. She noted this with some surprise; she had been doing her best to leave an escape route open for him in case he needed one, but it seemed maybe he would rather she didn’t.

“Is Clint hiding in the vents again?” Tony asked, about halfway through his sandwich.

“No; he is out with Steve following a lead. They should be back tonight.”

Tony picked at his sandwich. “Do you think -” he started, and then stopped.

“No, he’s not mad at you, embarrassed by you, or convinced you’re broken. He’s just being an overprotective mother hen, and likes taking care of people,” Natasha said calmly, despite her surprise. 

“...Seriously, can you read minds?”

“No, I can’t. Faces are a little bit easier.”

“Huh…”

“Well, unless the people I’m trying to read are wearing tough masks. Yours were more convincing than I care to admit. It took me too long to figure out the palladium thing.”

Tony’s lips twitched up a little, for a minute, at the compliment. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Did Rhodey tell you about college?”

Natasha let her surprise show on her face. Of all the people in the tower, she hadn’t expected Tony to bring this up with her. “Only a little. He told us that was when you dated Stone, at MIT.”

“That’s how I met Rhodey.”

“What?”

“He was in my engineering classes. He noticed how different I acted in the few classes I had with Stone.” Tony took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly while he gathered his thoughts. “I was seventeen when I graduated.”

Natasha hadn’t actually thought about that. 

“Rhodey was a couple years older, started school when he was seventeen. Ty was only a year older than me - but far more experienced. Rhodey noticed and tried to befriend us two - wanted to make sure we were looked after, I guess. Mother hen.”

Natasha smiled. “He does seem to have a preference for strays.”

Tony gave her a full on grin at that. “Yeah, that’s what Mama Rhodes said the first time he dragged me to their house for the holidays. Then she stuffed me with turkey.” His smile faded slightly. “Rhodey was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to me at the time. Few people know this, but Rhodey wasn’t actually a soldier his first year in school.”

“No?” Natasha asked, surprised.

“Nope. He had a record. Has, if we want to get technical, but the only place it’s on file is in Jarvis’ systems.”

Natasha blinked. She had no idea. And wait, Rhodes may be a snarky reckless type, but he was a soldier through and through. She just couldn’t figure out why he would have a record.

“Idiot had a penchant for getting into fights on behalf of the little guy,” Tony said wryly, recognizing her confusion.

Natasha nodded, that made sense. “I take it he stepped in to fight for you?”

“Oh hell no. Not until I let him. He spent a long time convincing me to let him help. God I wish I’d given in sooner. I didn’t even admit Tiberius was an abusive ass until I after I graduated.”

“What made you realize?” Natasha asked.

Tony took a deep breath, and another.

“You don’t have to answer,” she said gently.

“No, I… I need to, I think. I’m just... it was the stupidest thing.”

“Not to you.”

“He… He asked me what I wanted to have for dinner. I - I really wanted to just go home and sleep, because I really didn’t feel well, but he was insisting, saying he had to ‘take care of me’ or something. I remember - I started yelling at him, about how the one time I wasn’t hungry he actually was going to let me… It was one of the worst beatings he ever gave me, but I didn’t really care about that. I just.”

“What happened next.”

“I called Rhodey, and he came and picked me up. I thought he was going to kill someone, he was so pissed off that the nurse wouldn’t go near him.”

“Nurse.”

“Ah, yeah - he took me to the hospital. I told him… I said I just wanted it to stop, and he told me I would never see Ty at MIT again.”

“What did Rhodey do.”

“Another thing people forget about Rhodey,” Tony replied, “is that he’s the type of soldier that I get along great with. And he has an incredible skill with knives.”

“Is that why Ty scarred you?”

Tony nodded, paling a little, and took a massive bite of his sandwich.

Natasha noted the change and gave Tony a small smirk. “Bet you can’t keep the tablet away from Clint long enough to get any work done.”

“You’re on. What are we betting?”

“I only bet in secrets.” 

They remained in the kitchen in companionable silence until their food was finished, and Natasha helped Tony back to his room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of past abuse, self-hate

They developed something of a pattern. Whenever Tony could be certain that Clint wasn’t in the vents listening, he would slip away to make himself some sort of food or start a movie. Natasha would join him, and Tony would talk.

“I have cleithrophobia, thanks to Ty. When I was in trouble, or if he wanted to hear me sob and scream, he locked me in a closet. Once he left me there for three days during a break, without a single word. He left me alone a lot.”

“He went out to sleep around when I was ordered home alone, and to be in bed ready and waiting. Said he had to because I was such an awful boyfriend, and I believed him.”

“Sometimes I can’t eat, because I haven’t ‘earned’ it.”

“Sometimes I can’t eat because I can’t bring myself to choose what to eat.”

“Choosing things was a guessing game with Ty. If he didn’t like my choice, I suffered for it.”

“There was one time… I didn’t say no, but I didn’t say yes either… I… There were four of them.”

“I get nightmares about doing any less than perfect. When I received a 98% on an exam Ty forced me to crush glass with my bare hands.”

Natasha felt sick, sometimes, imagining Tony, _their_ Tony, letting someone do such things to him. Believing he deserved the pain. She never let it show. She kept her pity carefully in the realm of sympathy. When Tony told her something particularly upsetting, she taped a picture of Stone’s face to a practice dummy and went to town. Natasha felt fairly certain Tony watched those sessions as part of their odd little therapy bonding sessions.

Then the focus changed. Slowly, Tony started sharing his fears about starting a new relationship. He still talked about the abuse, but he started moving on from it, to its effects.

This was much harder for Natasha to listen to. She knew Tony, too, knew logically that he was safe with Clint. Logic struggled to beat emotion and learned instinct, though. The first time Tony talked about it, they knew Clint would be gone for two days, without a doubt. Natasha wore jeans and a crop top, sunning on the helipad. Tony emerged from inside, wearing long sleeves and a hoodie. She knew instantly something was more wrong than usual; the sweater, Clint lost two days earlier, and Tony hid in it unobtrusively. Natasha stayed silent, waiting for him to be ready.

“When Clint’s in the room, I feel like I can’t breathe,” Tony whispered. 

Natasha felt herself blink in surprise, and Tony shifted uncomfortably next to her. “Why?” she asked.

“Because as much as my brain tells me I’m safe, my instincts tell me to run. To get away. To be careful, because who knows what will make him leave, or get angry.”

That’s all he says. From there he moves on to discussing the warm weather lately, and gets her a frozen lemonade. He almost always brings some sort of treat to their talks. 

Later, he tells her more.

“I don’t like to choose what we eat, team nights or date nights.”

“Is it weird that I’d rather bottom despite all the years of - of Ty?”

“Sometimes Clint’s cologne reminds me of him, but I don’t want to say anything. I want to beat it, but I also just want it gone.”

After that one, Natasha sniffs at Clint and tells him his cologne is awful. By that point, Clint knows she and Tony are talking regularly, though he doesn’t know about what - he is Hawkeye. He gets rid of the cologne and picks something totally different, and wears less of it. Tony brings her a doughnut bouquet later.

“Talking to Clint makes me sweat, because Ty always wanted me to be quiet. It takes me twice as long to spit out twice as many words to actually say what I want to say.”

“Clint’s perfect, he’s been so understanding about… about everything, and I hate myself for what Ty did. I don’t deserve him.”

“I feel awful for telling you all this, but none of it to Clint. But I just can’t seem to bring up the subject.”

“Do you want him to bring it up?” Natasha asked.

“That terrifies me.” Tony replied.

“That’s not a no,” Natasha said.

“No, it’s not a no.”

Natasha nods. “Why me, by the way?” she asked.

Tony shifted. “Because you get it. And… you’ve never been anything but professional.”

Natasha nodded. Tony came to her _because_ she wasn’t the golden child, the good girl. Tony came to Natasha because Natasha didn’t judge him, didn’t think any less of him for going through a shitty relationship. Didn’t think him weak for the scars he bore.

Now. Time to send her boys out for a proper talk.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, MANY thanks to Hawkwind180, for beta reading. Everyone better say thanks because Hawk's helping me churn out updates quicker and also -
> 
> If anyone is waiting for more in the [Togetherness Issues](http://archiveofourown.org/series/68439) series? Yeah, Hawk's given me a prompt and now we're working on the thing. Look for it soon!

“Clint.”

He jumped slightly and turned, knife halfway out of his belt. He relaxed just as fast, recognizing the voice and the flaming red hair. “Tasha! Geez, you scared me.”

She lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “We need to talk.”

Clint froze, and then moved to sit at the bar. Natasha sat next to him. “Go on,” he said.

“Tony and I talk a lot,” Natasha said.

Clint nodded. He realized Tony talked to Natasha shortly after the first time he went out chasing a lead on Tiberius Stone’s location. He felt relieved and envious all at once, but he trusted Natasha to help piece Tony back together. In the end, it was simpler than he expected to stand aside and let her help. “Yeah, I know. Is this something like the cologne again?” It’d been a surprise when Natasha came sniffing at him and telling him his cologne smelled awful; she’d never minded it before. It wasn’t hard to make the connection.

“No. You need to ask Tony _why_ he has a hard time talking to you. And be patient when he answers.”

Clint blinked at her, then narrowed his eyes. “Is that the best idea? I don’t want to push.”

“Tony is ready to talk to you,” Natasha said, “but he has a hard time bringing the subject up himself.” The ‘around you, at least’ was implied.

Clint nodded, already plotting how best to bring up the conversation. “Is it just that?” he asked.

“There are other things I believe he would talk to you about. You need to ask specific questions, Clint, or he’ll never be able to get it all out in front of you. Don’t go anywhere near the topic of sex yet.”

Clint nodded, despite the hatred that simple statement inspired. If Natasha felt he needed to be warned away from it, then problems existed.

“One more thing,” Natasha murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t leave him alone after you talk. Wait for him to walk away.”

Clint moved his sharp gaze over her face. He could see barely concealed rage on her features, and he remembered how Tony reacted to being alone when they brought him home. “Yeah.”

Natasha rose gracefully. “I suggest you get it over with today or tomorrow, if possible. Otherwise Tony will overthink.” She left Clint’s room.

Clint stood alone, staring out the window. “Jarvis? Is Tony free in an hour?”

“Yes, Mister Barton. I am sure you know where he may be found.”

Clint grinned a little. “Who doesn’t?”

* * *

Tony, though finally off bed rest, remained banned from working for a few more days. He hung out in the workshop anyway, of course. Jarvis kept an eye on him, and notified Steve, Bruce, or Darcy if Tony tried to work on anything more physically difficult than paperwork. Since Darcy was usually free, she became the most common for Jarvis to call.

This led to Tony glowering at a college student at all hours of the day. “It’s just a little, tiny robot!”

“No, Tony,” Darcy said patiently. 

“Barely even capable of lifting a cereal box!”

“No. If you follow the doc’s orders, you’ll be back to building little robots in two days. If you don’t, it could be two months after you injure yourself.”

Tony pouted at the brunette. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. He turned up the kitten-likeness. She raised an eyebrow.

Tony caved, handing over the blowtorch he managed to grab before Jarvis called Darcy to intervene. Traitor. Darcy, at least, handed him a tablet in return - or rather, set it on the table so he could grab it. He felt the urge to say thank you, which, well, ridiculous. She stole his blow torch.

“Lunch,” she said, and plopped a magically appearing plate of turkey sandwiches in front of him.

Tony’s ire lessened.

Darcy then provided a mug of coffee.

“Fiiiiine,” he said, making sure that he whined. Darcy smiled at him, and he knew she understood. She was forgiven. 

“Now, I’m going to make sure the rest of my wayward scientists get fed. Can you be good until then.” Tony grumbled, but nodded. Darcy left to the sound of the imperial march. “Perfect, Jarvis!” she said, and Tony grumbled at no one for a minute.

“These are really good!”

Tony jumped and turned away from the lab door. He did not shriek. Definitely didn’t shriek.

Clint smirked at him. Tony hurriedly tugged the plate away from him and covered it protectively. “Mine!”

“Can you really eat six sandwiches by yourself? She totally guessed I was coming.”

Tony counted. Five sandwiches. “Fine, I see your point, sandwich thief” he acknowledged. “Turkey sandwiches are the best though. Especially with melty cheese. I get at least three.”

Clint nodded, and went back to munching on his stolen sandwich.

Tony relaxed at the easy acceptance. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, happily eating.

“Hey… why is it so hard for you to talk to me?”

Tony blinked, slightly, and felt himself start to panic. This proved Clint’s point, of course. Tony took a deep breath, very carefully reminding himself that this was Clint, not Ty, Clint. “It’s… because of Ty.”

Clint cocked his side. Curious, not pushing.

Tony was sick of letting Ty take this from him. “He - he hated it when I talked a lot. I…” He took a breath. “He’d leave me in this… closet? He’d… I’d be in there for days, sometimes, with no contact. If - if it was a bad week or I really annoyed him - no, I didn’t - if _he got_ really annoyed - he’d, ah, punish me first. So I was quiet. Now, I’m… trying to unlearn that.”

Clint’s eyes turned flinty during the careful, stuttering speech. Tony watched him, wondering what was happening behind those eyes, and then Clint smiled, moved forward, and gave Tony a massive hug and a kiss that left Tony’s knees melting under him. “Positive reinforcement,” Clint said.

“Humngha,” Tony said, brain still trying to come back online. He leaned into the warm embrace, hugging Clint back tightly.

Yeah. Not Ty. Tony smiled into Clint’s shoulder. “Jarvis, make sure Natasha receives a lifetime supply of chocolate,” he mumbled.

Clint laughed.

“There is a scheduled delivery of vodka and sunflowers to Ms. Romanov’s quarters tomorrow, sir.”

“Perfect,” Tony said, cuddling a bit closer to Clint. “Also, schedule another Mario Kart tournament. It’s about time we all took a break to do something fun.”

“Of course, sir.”

Clint hummed and released Tony, but kept their fingers lightly entwined. “Show me what you’re working on.”

Tony scowled, grumbling about how it wasn’t really working, Jarvis wouldn’t let him and Darcy -

Clint listened to every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC IS A FREAKING MONSTER
> 
> It just keeps going and going and going............
> 
> We're closer to the end though... five or six chapters about this size, I think, and then this part of the series will end.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone say thanks to the lovely Hawkwind1980, without whom this chapter would be about half this length. :)

Tony eventually escapes his watchers, once he’s feeling more comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t go far, knowing Ty is still somewhere in the world, but he slips away to his workshop or stops in at the employee kitchen to talk to some of his favorites. The first few times, Clint is frantic when he realizes Tony is gone, only to relax as soon as he finds his genius chatting it up with the head of R&D or humming as he puts together a new set of armor. Eventually, he stops panicking and thinks to ask Jarvis for Tony’s location before running off to find him.

Normalcy slowly returns. Steve and Tony spar again, getting all their arguments sorted out in the gym. Tony and Natasha have a drink together every Thursday and moan about work, since Natasha is working as Natalie Rushman again. Thor and Clint go to the wildest parties they can find every Friday, before coming home to give their lovers kisses. 

After a few weeks of blissful peace (excluding the roughly twice a week battles with supervillains, all of which have been surprisingly simple lately) Tony wakes up one morning to find that he has, in fact, run out of coffee.

Tony considered his options. He could go get coffee from one of the employee lounges, but there was no guarantee that they would have any ready (or that it would be any good). He could go bother one of the other Avengers for their coffee, but the only one with any taste was Natasha, and he’d already caused enough trouble for the spy. Or (he gulped), he could go out. There was a really, really good coffee shop about two blocks away…

But Ty.

Would he really be stupid enough to try something within two blocks of Avengers Tower, though?

Maybe.

“Mr. Stark, is there a problem?”

Tony jumped and turned. Coulson stood in the door with a stack of files under his arm, one eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. Just. Coffee,” he said, trying not to whine. 

Coulson observed the empty coffee maker. “There should be some on one of the others’ floors.”

Tony hesitated. “There’s this little place two blocks over that makes the best - okay. I’ll just. I’m sure Steve’s got some, he always does -”

“Do you want to go get coffee?” Coulson asked, eyes narrowing.

Tony shifted from foot to foot. “...Yes,” he said, reminding himself that he was allowed to decide that yes, he wanted coffee, and he wanted to go out for it.

“I take it you would like company. Good, I need to speak with you.” He held up the massive stack of folders, probably the reason he came up to Tony’s floor in the first place.

Coulson was willing to go for coffee with him? Tony was confused for a moment before he remembered that Coulson and Clint were basically brothers at this point. He probably wanted to keep Tony safe for Clint. That worked.

“You and Barton,” Coulson sighed.

“Huh?”

“Let’s go, Stark.”

“Hang on, I need a disguise so we don’t get mobbed.” Tony quickly moved back to his bedroom, throwing on a pair of ratty jeans and a band tee. He pulled a hoodie on over the top, sliding sunglasses and a baseball cap onto his head and face. Snagging his wallet off the dresser - he could just give them his name, but that defeated the purpose of the disguise - Tony ran back out to meet Coulson.

Coulson muttered something under his breath that sounded something like ‘damned Avengers’ and briskly led the way to the private elevator, which was the only one that went down to Tony’s private garage.

“Can we walk, actually?” Tony asked. He immediately tensed up a little - Coulson probably didn’t care as long as he could corner the billionaire for paperwork, but asking still made him a little uncomfortable, something that would probably linger for a lot longer. Damn Tiberius Stone.

“How far is it?” Coulson asked, hitting the button for the lobby instead.

“About two blocks.”

“Good, I haven’t been outside in a week. You would not believe the paperwork that goes into dodging SHIELD fraternization regulations for you two brats.”

Tony blinked wide for a moment, before starting to grin. “Aw, I knew you loved us beneath the stuffy agent exterior!”

“I have no idea what insanity you’re rambling about now, Stark. And I don’t want to know.”

“Tony. Or we’ll get mobbed.”

“Fine then. Tony.”

The elevator reached the lobby, doors sliding open. Coulson made to move forward through the lobby, but Tony grabbed him by the arm and shook his head. “This way.” He led Coulson back around the front desk and through a side panel that looked like part of the wall, hidden behind a large potted plant. As he passed through the doorway, Tony signed a quick ‘OK’ to the woman at the desk, who pressed one of a number of buttons on the bottom of the lobby desk.

“This isn’t on the blueprints for the Tower,” Coulson remarked.

“And it stays that way.”

“Of course. It’s inconsequential.”

The door let out onto the busy sidewalk. Someone brushed by Tony, rubbing up against an arm, and he tensed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he thought. Any one of the hundreds, thousands of people on the sidewalks between he and his beloved coffee could be Tiberius Stone. It was crowded enough that Tony could walk right past him and never even know. That man over there… no, too tall. The girl that just turned had piercings - Ty would never dare. The woman with a baby? No, they drew too much attention with the baby wailing like that -

“Are we getting coffee or not, Stark?” Coulson asked, shaking Tony out of his thoughts.

He took a deep breath. “Coffee. Yup. Let’s do this.” He started pushing his way down the street, leading the way to the cafe. He felt his muscles relax as he fell into the familiar motions of navigating a crowded New York sidewalk without getting pickpocketed or slowed down. The bustle on the streets was a familiar press of bodies and sweat, and he smelled street hot dogs and churros somewhere nearby. A child shrieked somewhere behind them, and he heard a teen swear somewhere ahead - something about a broken skateboard. 

After the initial panic subsided, and with Coulson’s steady presence next to him, Tony reveled in the city for the two blocks to the coffee shop, soaking in the sunlight like he’d never get the chance again. It made him ache for Malibu, a little, but he loved New York. Chimes jingled as he opened the door into the small cafe, crowded with local employees (Tony amusedly noted that many of them were his) out for their lunch. 

“It certainly smells like good coffee,” Coulson said. 

Tony grinned. “Oh, it is.” 

The chance to get out of the tower for a while is totally worth the three hours of paperwork, and Tony goes home with Coulson late in the afternoon feeling happier than he has since Clint came to take him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is already in the planning stages, and it's going to be brutal. Anyone been wondering how Clint's doing with all this?
> 
>  
> 
> Also,
> 
> I am sorry to do this, but I’m getting a little desperate. I live in a college town, as a college student. I am about a hundred dollars short for my next rent payment (Nov. 2015), and I can’t get a job.
> 
> Trust me, I’ve tried. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I can’t even get work as a janitor. Seriously.
> 
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	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, sorry it's been so long since the last update. Stuff happened. Here you go - We're almost to the end!

Clint and Tony continue talking more; sometimes Clint asks questions that send Tony fleeing into the underbelly of the shop. Sometimes Clint gets frustrated and there are epic yelling matches that leave both men shaky. Sometimes, they need Natasha or Bruce to mediate. Mostly, though, it’s a good thing; they start doing better, and Tony gets more comfortable in his own skin, in the idea of being in a relationship with Clint. They start cuddling on the couch again once in awhile. The Mario Kart battles come back. Tony goes out with Clint or Phil, starts getting used to crowds again; that’s an easier adjustment in the end - he’s been dealing with crowds his whole life. It’s the little intimacies that keep tripping him up.

Sighing, Tony downs the last dregs of his coffee and stands, stretching cramped muscles and popping his back. He’s been hunched over his latest creation for hours without getting anything done, and he needs to take a break. He needs to go out. He kind of doesn’t want company, though. Talking to people sounds exhausting. 

So he doesn’t get anyone. He grabs his phone, tells Jarvis to let the others know where he is if they ask. He swallows a twenty-four hour tracker he’d developed due to… recent events. He puts on ratty jeans, a hoody, and a baseball cap, and he picks his least flashy car. Tony heads out the door by himself for the first time in months.

He goes to the little coffee place where Coulson went with him the first time he really left the tower. He’s got his armor on standby; he’s fine. It’s fine. He takes a deep breath, focuses on the black, cream, and green decor, and orders his coffee. 

He’s been sitting in his seat at the booth, for about ten minutes, absently reading _World War Z_ on his phone, when he realizes he has company. Distinctly unwelcome company. His breathing speeds up, adrenaline kicking in, and he hits a sequence of buttons on the phone that will alert Jarvis to send him an Avenger or two.

“Fuck off.”

“Hello, Tony.”

“What part of ‘fuck off’ do you not understand.”

Tiberius laughs, a chilling, empty thing. “Oh, Tony, and you were making so much progress.”

“Progress. Right. I was, until you showed up.” His gaze remains on his phone, on the tiny notification that pops up telling him that his family is on their way. He keeps his breathing very determinedly even. Natasha and Clint have been inventive in their torture of inanimate objects with Stone’s face plastered across them, they’ll be here soon, he’s perfectly fine, he’s safe, Ti - Stone can’t do anything in this crowded little cafe.

“None of that, now,” Tiberius sighs, reaching out to rub a thumb across Tony’s other hand, white-knuckled around his paper coffee cup; it’s starting to crunch under his grip. There are dark spots in the corners of his vision, and he forces himself to take a deep breath and look up into icy eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Stone,” Tony says coldly. “First you kidnap me, then you come to a coffee shop less than two blocks from Avenger’s tower?”

“I wouldn’t call it kidnapping,” Tiberius demurs. “More like… creative acquisition.”

“I’m not an _item_ you can _acquire_ , Stone.”

Stone chuckles indulgently, and Tony feels a shiver run up his spine as Stone’s foot finds his beneath the table and _presses_. “Oh, Tony,” Stone says again.

Someone slides into the booth next to Tiberius, and someone else next to Tony, and Tony relaxes. Natasha smiles sharply across the table at a rapidly paling Tiberius Stone as Steve winks at Tony from next to the villain. 

“By the authority of SHIELD,” Steve says, and Tony hears the distinctive click of handcuffs, “You are under arrest, Mr. Stone. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

Steve escorts Tiberius to the door, where Thor is waiting, and Clint slides into the seat they had just vacated.

“That was too easy,” the archer says at once.

Tony nods in agreement, and looks around the cafe with Clint and Natasha. One of the baristas has a cleaning rag in a white-knuckled hand. A customer in the back corner is holding perfectly still - Tony’s not sure he’s even breathing.

“Bomb,” he and Clint say at the same moment, and Tony grins, knowing Clint saw the same signs he did.

Natasha groans. “Of course.” She dials Steve at once, delivering the news in clipped sentences, tells him not to take Tiberius farther than the sidewalk outside - just in case.

Tony sighs, fiddles in his pockets, and pulls out his toolkit, a miniature one Pepper got him years ago. He never leaves the house without it… well, okay, he didn’t today, and that’s the important part. As he stands to approach, Clint as his side, he’s thinking one thing.

_God, I hope it isn’t one of mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com if you're interested in winteriron - I'm joining their writing crew!


	19. Chapter 19

It’s not one of his. No, this is much, much worse.

“Hammer,” Clint groaned behind him.

“Yep,” Tony agreed, sounding exhausted. 

“Seriously?” the random young man strapped to the bomb asks, “I get kidnapped off the street and strapped to a bomb, and it isn’t even a decent bomb? It must be a Monday. Someone tell me it’s a Monday.”

“Sure, it can be Monday. It’s been a very Monday sort of day,” Clint agrees. If anyone understands rambling for the sake of staying calm, Tony muses, it’s probably Clint. “Still, it’s Hammertech, and Tony Stark is dismantling it. You’re probably good.”

“I’m an engineering student, you can’t expect me to believe such lies. Everyone knows Hammer’s bombs are so unstable that it doesn’t matter if the trigger is pulled or not. Especially shoddy homemade Hammer bombs that other supervillains have tampered with! Not even DOOM will touch the stuff, he’s posted it online - he used to buy blackmarket Starktech, but these days he just builds his own.”

Tony snorts and looks the kid in the eye. “When we get out of this, make sure to apply for my internship program.”

“I would be fanboying so hard right now if I wasn’t about to die,” the young man said.

Tony lost track of Clint and the kid talking after that, focusing in on the bomb. Shoddily built, it was on a hair trigger; anything could set it off. Stone, the idiot, seemed to have tampered just enough to ensure that it was unclear exactly what connected where. “I could build a better bomb in my sleep. This thing’s so unstable I’m surprised your breathing hasn’t set it off,” he grumbled.

The kid proceeded to stop breathing until Clint told him just to roll with it, since Tony tended to exaggerate. The kid obeyed, albeit a bit shakier than before.

“I mean, if I had to get kidnapped, why couldn’t it have been by someone competent, at least? Getting grabbed by incompetent villains isn’t even, like, a decent excuse anymore. I bet my professors still dock me for missing class. They might not even let me claim Stone is a supervillain. Jerk, yes. Superjerk, no.”

Tony snorted. “Oh yeah, definitely a jerk,” he agreed. “Clint, get me Thor. And tell him to leave the lightning outside, or we’re all dead.”

Clint saluted.

“And tell him to walk softly!” Tony yelled at his retreating back, before turning back to the kid, who looks distinctly paler at this point. 

“This is really not how I saw my morning going.”

“Yeah, sorry. My crazy ex-boyfriend takes things a little far.”

“Can you come guest lecture in my classes? Because somehow my professor makes robotics sound about as boring as a Wednesday evening, and robotics is awesome.”

“Sure.”

“Awesome.”

“Don’t pass out, or we’ll blow up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tony,” Thor said in a quieter rumble than normal, “What would you have me do?”

“Feel like blowing stuff up today?”

“Of course!” Thor said. He winced, realizing he had accidentally spoken louder than he intended. 

“Um, still stuck to the bomb here!” college kid spoke up.

“You are a most valiant warrior,” Thor praised, making college kid turn a little red. 

“I can get this bomb off,” Tony said, “At which point you’ve got about thirty seconds to get it away from us fleshy mortals.”

Thor nodded.

“Hey, kid?”

“Yeah?”

“How long can you hold your breath?”

“Uh. Not long.”

“Nevermind. Just, don’t move, okay?”

“Yep, not moving.”

Tony dove into the tangled mess of wires stuck to the kid. He stabilized what he could while clipping away unnecessary parts until he could get to the… wow. Who used _duct tape_ to strap a bomb to a college kid? Not even cool duct tape, with mustaches or little penguins or cartoon characters. Plain, boring, gray duct tape. Come on, Tiberius, Tony thought, show a little class. 

“How much do you like this shirt.”

“I mean, less than I like living.”

“Oh, good. Don’t move. Thor, get ready. When I say, grab, and run.”

Thor nodded, as the kid whimpered just a little bit. Something about how his grandmother was right, coffee is evil, he’ll never drink it again if he lives, at least not until his next exam… Tony snorted, and very, very carefully started cutting up the back of the kid’s shirt. His rage at Tiberius only grew when he saw blossoming bruises on skin. 

“Thor, NOW!” he said, just as he clipped through the collar of the shirt and it started sliding forward, bomb and all. Thor seized it by the front of the collar and, forgoing the idea of running to the door, just swung Mjolnir in an arc and flew straight up through the ceiling three steps away. Dust and tiny debris rained down on them as the kid just sort of collapsed. 

Tony patted him on the head. “I’ll pay for therapy,” he said sympathetically.

The kid waved him off. “There are forty supervillain victim support groups in Manhattan alone, I’m good. Besides, you shouldn’t have to pay for something your ex did, that’s just miserable. Why did you ever even date him?”

“I was a very, very lonely sixteen-year-old genius in college,” Tony said.

“Ah, yeah, makes a bit more sense… Were you serious about guest-lecturing, because that would be awesome.”

“I’ll see you next week, barring supervillain attacks,” Tony said, “Just leave the details with the man in the suit.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Agent,” Tony greeted. “Did you catch that last bit?”

“I am not paid enough to be your PA _and_ the Avengers’ handler, Stark.”

“...So that’s a yes?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass it along to Ms. Potts.”

“Perfect!”

“Tony, you should probably go join the others now.”

Tony beamed at him from where he was sitting on the floor, leaning against college kid’s booth. “Why? I’m very comfortable right here.”

Phil’s mouth softened at the corners. “Barton,” he said, “come get your boyfriend, I think he’s going into shock.”

Clint was there in twenty seconds flat, pulling Tony’s arm over his shoulders and helping him onto his feet. Tony leaned against him more than was strictly necessary. “Come on, Tones,” he said, “let’s head home.”

“Sounds good,” Tony said, and didn’t look to where Stone was hissing and spitting at a bright flame blooming in the sky. 

He’d outgrown Tiberius Stone, and he just wanted to savor the death of an old nightmare, watch a movie, possibly something Disney, and argue with Clint over the merits of caramel popcorn.

“Sure,” Clint said, “Just no Lion King. Crying Thor makes me very uncomfortable.”


	20. Chapter 20

Tony woke up slowly. His head was pillowed on a warm stomach, he was pretty sure, since it kept moving up and down. Pillows didn’t generally do that. Blinking awake, he lifted his head and looked around.

Wow, he was never the first one awake. Natasha, curled in an armchair across the room, was sleeping practically sitting up. Steve and Thor were sprawled across the floor with a pillow apiece, while Bruce stretched out along the other couch. Phil must have left at some point, so not quite the first one awake, Tony noted. And on his couch, providing a very comfortable stomach, Clint sprawled. It looked like he started out like Natasha, basically sitting up, but had slowly slid and shlumped downwards until he was Tony’s rather comfortable pillow. 

Tony yawned. Coffee, then fuzzy emotions that definitely had nothing to do with his team finally catching Tiberius Stone. Half climbing and half falling off of the couch (and Clint), Tony stumbled out of the living room. He may or may not have tripped over one of Thor’s feet, but the demigod didn’t even stir, so he figured it was fine. Eventually reaching the kitchen in a highly dignified manner (shut up, Jarvis, stop thinking so loudly at this hour of the morning), Tony glared at the coffee maker until a familiar, callused hand slipped past his and turned it on. Tony hummed happily, leaning back against Clint.

“Let’s get you caffeinated, hm?”

“You are an angel,” Tony said. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Okay caffeine _then_ talking. And no, it didn’t hurt when I fell from heaven. After all, I fell for you.”

Tony blinked at him. “I think if I wasn’t still half asleep that would be cheesily romantic enough for a kiss,” he said.

Clint turned him around and leaned forward to obligingly give him a quick kiss. Tony smiled into it and slipped his arms around Clint’s waist.

“You’re here, we’re safe,” Tony said.

“I’m here, we’re safe,” Clint agreed.

“Coffee?”

Clint slipped a mug under the coffee maker as it beeped, and slid it into Tony’s waiting fingers.

“Perfect,” Tony said.

Clint filled another mug for himself and got them both situated at the counter, side by side and close enough to bump elbows.

“He’s… he’s gone, right?” Tony asked as the caffeine set in and he woke up a little more.

“Yep.”

“Oh, good.”

“Finally, right?”

“Did you get the college kid’s name, because I need to hire him.”

“I’m sure Coulson got it.”

“Oh, good.” Tony leaned sideways, resting against Clint’s side, and Clint leaned back on Tony in return. sipping at his coffee. They stayed that way until they were sipping at dregs.

Clint stretched and sat up, slowly enough for Tony to catch himself. Taking the billionaire’s mug, he circled the counter and refilled it before passing it back. Turning to the fridge, he grinned when he saw that it had been restocked. “Do you like your eggs scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled,” Tony said.

“Good, even if I try not to scramble them, that’s how they’ll end up. Sausage or bacon?”

“Both?”

Clint grinned. “Coming right up,” he said, grabbing all three items from the fridge and setting them on the counter. He rummaged through some cupboards to grab a couple of frying pans and set them on the stove. After a few minutes, when he had dumped the eggs in one pan and had the meat sizzling in the other, soft feet padded across the kitchen. Tony looped his arms around Clint’s waist again and leaned into him, chin resting on Clint’s shoulder. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Tony asked, and winced.

“Is this what I’m getting myself into?” Clint asked lightly. “Cheesy pickup lines before breakfast?”

“Better believe it,” Tony replied.

“Hm, sounds good.” 

“Also probably we should do some couples therapy,” Tony said like he was chewing on something gross.

Clint sighed. “Probably.”

Tony grumbled, but didn’t move, and Clint smiled.

“Or we could skip the therapy and duke it out over MarioKart.”

“I like that plan,” Tony said.

“Grab us a couple plates?”

Tony moved away, and Clint quickly scrambled the eggs around so they wouldn’t burn, scooping them onto the plates Tony brought back before moving to grab more cups. A motion in the corner of his eye drew Clint’s attention away from the meat for a minute, and he smiled at Natasha in the doorway. She smiled back, and left without entering. Hopefully she would make the others stay away too. Picking up the pan of sizzling bacon and sausage, Clint heaped a generous helping of both onto each plate. Setting down the pan, he picked up the plates and moved them to their seats at the bar. Tony plopped a cup of juice next to each, along with refilled mugs of coffee and forks before settling into his seat. Clint grabbed a bottle of ketchup and joined him. 

“Gross,” Tony mumbled. “At least go for salsa.”

“Nothing wrong with ketchup,” Clint replied.

Tony shrugged and bumped elbows with Clint before digging into his breakfast. Clint did the same. They heard the sounds of the other Avengers waking up, though nothing from Natasha. She must have done something though, since none of the others made their way to the kitchen, despite the smell of bacon. 

“Jarvis, get Natasha something nice,” Tony said.

“Already done, sir.”

“Thanks.”

Clint finished his food first, and drained his glass of apple juice. He moved to put his dishes in the sink before returning to the counter to sip at his coffee while Tony finished eating. After Tony put his dishes away, they settled in next to each other, breathing in the smell and taste of coffee and basking in the sunlight filtering through the windows.

“Let’s go to Malibu,” Tony said.

Clint blinked. “What? Why?”

“I want to go surfing. And I have a private beach. And we’ll have the place to ourselves. Well, and Jarvis.”

Clint thought about it for a second. “Yeah, alright.”

Tony grinned at him. Clint grinned back.

“Let’s decorate Steve’s room red, white, and blue first,” Clint said. “Then we’ll run away before we have to deal with the consequences. Jarvis can videotape the fallout for us.”

“Yes,” Tony said, “let’s do that.”

Clint grinned. Oh, this was the start of something beautiful. And destructive. Probably filled with explosions.

But beautiful anyway.

And all theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muses inform me that Tony and Clint have a very long, emotional discussion off screen, with some Natasha mediation, but they wanted to keep it private.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who followed this fic to the end! Also, many, many thanks to Hawkwind1980 for all of her help beta reading, fixing my tense changes, and plunny breeding! This fic evolved into a bit of a monster, but we've finally finished. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Look out for part 5: Clint, too, has a Past!   
> Poor Clint.
> 
> ~Era


End file.
